T52 was given permission to visit Hak-yeon almost immediately, all cameras focused on their interaction the moment he entered the room. Sang-hyuk had hovered almost impossibly close to the poor technician monitoring the controls, taking in every movement and every mouthed word to make sure nothing happened, and while the first couple visits ended with nothing more than Hak-yeon attempting to make conversation, he began to see a change in T52.

T52’s sudden health decline seemed to correct itself, his withering skin once replaced staying just as smooth as when first put on. His hair grew back slowly, the resets that had put such a strain on his body subsiding until happening only once or twice a day, a number even smaller than before he met Hak-yeon. While T52 refused to tell Sang-hyuk any of the things he and Hak-yeon talked about when together, Sang-hyuk was able to see how bright T52’s mood was, a smile that was all his own crossing his lips when he thought no one was looking. It was still too early to say that Hak-yeon was the reason for his improving health, but it was a step in the right direction.

But while he noticed the great change in T52, there was a smaller, more subtle change in Hak-yeon. Something had happened, and instead of staring at him in a mixture of wonder and confusion, Hak-yeon’s eyes were filled with suspicion. His face showed nothing, his expression the same as always, but there was a difference in the way his eyes would watch him, his body more hesitant to follow commands. He hadn’t thought much of it at first, but he soon began to notice how Hak-yeon continued to wilt before him.

While he felt guilty at seeing Hak-yeon so small and helpless, he couldn’t help but feel the growing pressure of Joon-myeon and the sponsors demanding to see their newest cyborg.

Hak-yeon couldn’t stay like this.

“Y21? Y21, look at me. Can you hear me?” He resisted the urge to tap Hak-yeon’s cheek to grab his attention, knowing the latter wouldn’t be able to feel it, and instead waited until Hak-yeon’s eyes eventually looked at him. A part of him panicked at the way Hak-yeon stared, unblinking, and he reached out to grab Hak-yeon’s new hand. He still wasn’t completely used to it, the skin so real yet so fake, but he ignored it all so he could meet Hak-yeon’s wavering eye. “Is something wrong, baby?” He noticed Hak-yeon’s gaze sharpen then, recognizing the pet name. Sang-hyuk would never say how much he missed Hak-yeon calling him that.

“I do not understand.”

Sang-hyuk let out a slow breath as he struggled to word his worries in a way Hak-yeon could understand, the smile he forced threatening to rip his face in half. “You’re thinking about something. Whenever I see you, you’re always thinking. I thought it was cute at first, but recently you’ve seemed so sad. You don’t smile at me anymore, and I’m worried. Did something happen? You know you can tell me, right? I’ll always be here.”

Hak-yeon stared at him for just a second longer before speaking. “When you are not with me, do you also visit Hong-bin and X39?”

Sang-hyuk nearly choked on his spit at the sudden question. He hadn’t known T52 had opened up that much to Hak-yeon, his stomach twisting at the idea of Hak-yeon calling the former ‘Hong-bin’ again. He still had no idea where T52 heard the name, but it made him squirm just as much as the first time. He would have to remind T52 not to repeat the name too often—he knew his Hong-bin knew not to mention his name to other people, but T52 was always unpredictable.

He swallowed when he saw Hak-yeon waiting, watching, and he squirmed. “…yes. I do see T52 and X39, and I see X39 much more than I see you.” He saw Hak-yeon’s eyes narrow, frowning to match his own, and he added hurriedly, “But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. You’re still new; X39’s been here much longer than you and can stand the tests better, so I work with him more. I promise there’s nothing wrong with you.” He pat Hak-yeon’s hand comfortingly, smiling as brightly as he could, and Hak-yeon’s expression fell neutral.

“I am strong. I can do the tests.”

Sang-hyuk immediately yanked his hand back. Flashes of Joon-myeon reminding him of Hak-yeon’s impending tests ran through his mind, and he could feel his body tremble at the memory. Hak-yeon—he didn’t want him to end up like T52 or Hong-bin. He didn’t want him to eventually have his entire body replaced. He didn’t want the only thing keeping him human to be the crumbling brain that they’d have to pump with serums of all kinds to stop from deteriorating. While he was slowly coming around to the realization that Hak-yeon would never be his beautiful friend again, he didn’t want him to end up as the mindless robot everyone expected him to be.

He didn’t realize how deep his voice grew, his hands shaking. “No. I won’t let them do anything to you until I know you’re ready. Don’t ask for something you’re not ready for.”

“But why do you allow Hong-bin and X39 to do them? I want to be ready too.” Sang-hyuk nearly growled as he tried to figure a simple way to explain his reasoning, not used to seeing Hak-yeon so stubborn. Hak-yeon had always bent over backwards to please him; was this what he would’ve been like if Sang-hyuk hadn’t always been a sniveling baby?

“You lie to me,” Hak-yeon continued, his gaze hard, “and tell me I am beautiful. I knew nothing and believed you; but you see X39 and Hong-bin as much as you see me, and you tell them the same words that you say to me. I know I am not beautiful like you or Hong-bin. I appeared to believe your words to make you smile, but I know there is no truth behind them. But even now, you refuse to give me a chance to match them, and allow me to fall behind. I do not understand why you lie to me.”

…lie?

He thought back to all the times Hak-yeon had been acting strangely, wondering how long he’d known about the others and thought such things. While Hong-bin and T52 knew about each other, they had never been interested, so Sang-hyuk hadn’t thought it necessary to tell Hak-yeon. But there was something in Hak-yeon’s words, something that went beyond mere observation, and Sang-hyuk stumbled over himself when he realized what it was.

Was this what Hak-yeon had felt? All those years trapped in their apartment with nothing to look forward to except for the few times Sang-hyuk managed to come home before midnight…had Hak-yeon been jealous? Lonely? Hak-yeon had always reassured him that he was fine, and Sang-hyuk had been naïve and believed him—and now he was seeing the results of his ignorance in full force. How lonely and bitter had Hak-yeon really been for it to come so clearly now, when he shouldn’t even have these feelings anymore? That even with his memories wiped, his inherent insecurity and possessiveness were still able to manifest?

He didn’t wait to gather Hak-yeon in his arms, tucking him under his chin and holding him close. He grabbed Hak-yeon’s hand, noticing the latter’s body flinch at the touch, and his heart broke. “It seems no matter what I do, I’m only destined to hurt you.” He could almost feel Hak-yeon’s confusion radiating off him, and he buried his face into Hak-yeon’s hair, praying it muffled the sound of his sobs.

“I promise that nothing I’ve said is a lie. I would never lie to you. You are beautiful, you’re so, so beautiful, and I wish I could’ve made you believe that even before. You deserved to have the world bow at your feet. You still do.”

“But X39-”

“X39 is very special to me too, in a way that no one else can be. But that doesn’t make you any less special, or any less remarkable. Don’t look down on yourself just because you are different. Please don’t say anything like that again. Please.” As he felt Hak-yeon carefully squeeze his hand back, the only thing he could do, Sang-hyuk felt himself cry pathetically, basking in the touch.

He was never more thankful for T52 than then—Hak-yeon deserved someone that cherished him with everything they had, and no matter how much he wanted it, Sang-hyuk could never be that person.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when he felt a pair of hands grab him the moment he stepped out of Hak-yeon’s room, but he couldn’t help the small yelp when his back slammed against the wall, the hands gripping his collar digging painfully into his skin. He blinked past the stars to see T52 glaring at him, and he would admit now that he was surprised. The cyborgs had never displayed any trace of aggression, or any extreme emotion for that matter, and it was honestly a thought that had never crossed their minds.

But right now, he wouldn’t lie that the current situation terrified him, his heart hammering fearfully. T52 was made up of almost entirely of metal and hardened plastic—there would be nothing Sang-hyuk could do if the other wanted to hurt him.

“T-T52-”

“You said that you would not let them touch him.”

“What-?”

“You touched him. You changed his hand and made him like me. You said you would not let them touch him.” Despite the anger in his eyes, T52’s voice was chillingly calm, as if he was still sitting his room talking about his day. When Sang-hyuk did nothing but whimper, T52’s hands dug deeper into his chest, bruises already forming under the weight of his knuckles. “You walked in and reassured him that it was necessary, did you not? You promised him that you were powerless, but you would not let them do it again, did you not?” Sang-hyuk found his voice lost, unable to deny anything. T52’s hands slowly loosened, the anger fading away and allowing his face to fall blank once again. “That is what they always told me.”

Sang-hyuk paled. “That’s not it, T52, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t want this, I didn’t want anyone touching him.” When T52 didn’t move, his gaze unwavering, Sang-hyuk continued, “I fought hard to keep him safe, but you…you know better than anyone that I couldn’t do it forever. No matter how hard I try, they were going to start. You know that.” It was there, a flash in T52’s eyes that hinted an understanding the latter probably didn’t even realize, and Sang-hyuk gently placed his hands over T52’s. “That’s why he needs you. I can’t be when I’m the one that hurts him. You have to be. You can do that, can’t you?”

T52 finally blinked, taking a second before replying firmly, “Yes.”

Sang-hyuk smiled bitterly, easily pushing T52’s fingers apart so he could slide his own between them, the touch soft and revealing and absolutely ripping his heart in two. He nodded, tears he refused to spill wetting his lashes as he passed on his love into the awaiting hands of the man before him. Not a cyborg, not a stranger, but a man he knew would protect Hak-yeon with all the love and strength he deserved.

T52 had always been unpredictable, but it was only after meeting Hak-yeon that Sang-hyuk finally understood why.

--

“Your appearance is better today.” Sang-hyuk looked up from Hong-bin’s file report to see the latter watching him, the smile on his face a stark contrast to the rigid way he held himself. Sang-hyuk found himself returning the smile, throwing the report somewhere on the desk as he wheeled himself closer, holding his hand out and letting Hong-bin reach out to connect their fingers. Hong-bin’s smile widened.

While neither of them openly talked about what happened that day, Sang-hyuk could feel the walls between them slowly begin to crumble. It took a great deal of conscious effort to allow Hong-bin to probe feelings he had long forgotten, each attempt a great fumble between the two as they learned where the lines were drawn. Hong-bin would listen intently as Sang-hyuk described his sessions with Hak-yeon, asking questions and pulling back the moment Sang-hyuk struggled. Sang-hyuk in turn would allow Hong-bin time to explore, learning the true extents of his touch, both platonic and intimate.

The changes that followed after, both in Hong-bin’s test results and overall demeanor, were enough—Hong-bin looked up to meet Sang-hyuk’s eye as he gently squeezed his hand, his fingers soft. “Your face is still drawn, but your eyes have begun to shine again.”

“You know, even for a supposed cyborg, you always manage to speak in the weirdest way possible. What is that even supposed to mean?”

Hong-bin blinked at the chuckles that slipped through Sang-hyuk’s voice, slowly widening his smile in a mirror image of Sang-hyuk’s own. “I speak in the way I was taught. I only want to tell you that you appear happier.”

“Then just say I look happy. Speaking in riddles is just confusing.”

“I do not speak in riddles.” Hong-bin’s smile was gone, his attention back to their hands and the patterns his fingers drew into his palms. “You are the one who speaks in riddles. Your quick speak and colloquialisms; I cannot understand them. I speak in a way that I can understand.” Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to argue but Hong-bin cut him off with a quick press to his inner thigh. Sang-hyuk’s mouth ran dry. “There are many things I want to learn first. I would much rather learn how to help you and make you smile before sounding less like a machine.”

Sang-hyuk found his fingers curling at the unintended warmth those words sent through his body, watching Hong-bin’s curious hands that continued to his thighs. The lingering tingle that followed each brush sent confusing signals to his brain, unsure what they meant, and he felt his body shiver in response. Hong-bin didn’t seem to notice.

“I hurt you here—before. Do you remember?” His hands trailed up to Sang-hyuk’s waist, his fingers tracing circles as he reveled in the silk. Hong-bin loved the texture of silk over anything else they tried, and Sang-hyuk made sure to always wear it when he visited. “I have always regretted doing so.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t able to touch before.”

“But that does not excuse the action. You were in pain.” Hong-bin hummed softly as his hands began to trail low again, though this time Sang-hyuk was quick to stop him. Hong-bin looked up expectantly, waiting, and Sang-hyuk faltered.

“I…” Unsure what to say, he eventually stuttered out, “the sponsors are visiting tomorrow.”

Hong-bin didn’t seem fazed by the news, pulling his hands back as they rested instinctively over his knees. “That does not seem surprising. They have not visited in some time.”

“They…we’ve been keeping them away in case anything happened to Hak-yeon. But now that…” his voice wavered, Hong-bin quick to take his hand, and Sang-hyuk felt his breath catch at how comforting that was, “…now that his body has fully adapted to his new hand, they are demanding to see him. I’m scared they’re going to want more. I’ve already seen what happens with you…I don’t want to do that again.”

“Sang-hyuk, I have told you that you were young before-”

“That doesn’t mean what I felt wasn’t real. I worked for six years thinking I broke you. I don’t know what you did, but there’s no way Hak-yeon managed to keep his memories.” Hong-bin watched him emotionlessly, his brows drawn and lips tight, and Sang-hyuk yanked his hand away. “After seeing how much you’ve changed, I already know they’re going to demand more. I know you can handle it; you’re strong and I trust you. But Hak-yeon can’t.”

“That is the nature of this study. You have to push the boundaries and stay ahead so you can catch them before they fall.”

“I know that, but Hak-yeon is different. It’s all my fault he’s here, and if he dies…that will be my fault alone.”

“That is why I told you to let me help you. I cannot do the tests for you or lighten their expectations for your friend, but I can support you. You need to allow me to do that.”

Sang-hyuk stared at Hong-bin for the longest time, suppressing the urge to cry as he let out long, shaking breaths, finally dropping his head with a sad sigh. He wordlessly leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against Hong-bin’s firm shoulder, his breath ghosting across the other’s neck. He felt the latter shudder beneath him. “Thank you, Hong-bin.”

“I will always be here for you.”

Won-shik was waiting for him the moment he stepped out of his office, the guilty look on the other’s face doing nothing to help Sang-hyuk’s already frayed nerves. It hadn’t been long since he received the notice that the sponsors would be visiting today, and no amount of distractions could stop the growing dread in the pit of his stomach. He hid all the anxiety behind a well-constructed mask, one that did little from the way Won-shik’s guilty look faded to one of concern. The other thankfully didn’t say anything as they headed to the elevator, the two of them expected to greet the sponsors when they arrived.

They fell into the well-worn couches of the lobby, the innocuous elevator doors humming along as they went throughout the building in a constant rhythm. He could feel the couch crinkle as Won-shik leaned his head back, crossing his arms casually when the latter sighed loudly.

“You ready?” Won-shik finally muttered out, eyes closed as he turned his face up to the ceiling. Sang-hyuk didn’t answer right away, instead staring ahead at a couple of people hanging around the coffee machine, no one attempting to make conversation as they drank in complete silence. He thought of the many times he had hovered around that table, wanting to be like everyone else but too afraid to taste, uncomfortably loitering around until a loud roar broke him out of it, Sung-jae cackling behind him. The memory left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Won-shik continued, scratching absently at his neck. “I know I’m not. Y09’s been giving me all kinds of problems recently…pretty sure they’re going to rip me a new .” Sang-hyuk glanced at him questioningly and frowned when he noticed the way Won-shik’s lips tugged down despite smiling, his knuckles white and body tense. He had never seen Won-shik that way before, the other always seeming so confident and relaxed, and found himself shaken at the idea.

Won-shik rolled his head over to look at Sang-hyuk, his expression languid and smile lazy. The sight had Sang-hyuk tucking his shaking fists under his armpits, biting the inside of his cheek. “What about you? You ready?” Sang-hyuk only shrugged, and Won-shik quickly sat up. “Hyuk?”

Sang-hyuk glanced at him briefly before turning back to the coffee machine, face blank and stomach churning painfully. “Yeah? What do you want?”

Won-shik pursed his lips. “I just wanted to know-”

“What do you expect me to say? No? I don’t think it really matters if I’m ready or not.” He could see Won-shik open his mouth to argue and hurriedly continued before the other had a chance to speak. “The sponsors are going to force their opinions on me whether I like it or not, so what’s the point of getting nervous?” He refused to mention how his stomach was so twisted at this point he was near puking up the small breakfast he managed to eat. 

“Hyuk…” Won-shik’s voice trailed off, long enough Sang-hyuk turned questioningly at him, and he could see the latter wince. “It…it’s okay to be nervous. You don’t need to hide.” Sang-hyuk scoffed, and Won-shik’s frown deepened. “Hyuk-”

“Stop, Won-shik.”

“Hyuk, just listen-”

“Don’t.” Won-shik’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes imploring, but Sang-hyuk ignored it all. “Don’t pretend like you and everyone else haven’t spent the past six years turning me into what I am today. You can go around now and tell me all about how much you care, but all I remember is being told how even a glimpse of fear was weakness. Now that I’ve finally listened and stopped giving a , don’t go and try acting all sympathetic. I don’t care.”

Won-shik stared at him silently, lips drawn and his eyes so sad, and it took all Sang-hyuk had not to apologize. It didn’t matter how nice or understanding Won-shik pretended to be, he would throw it all away in a heartbeat. Won-shik had been the one to kill his parents, and had been the one to help turn Hak-yeon. In the end, Won-shik would always follow, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t trust him.

He couldn’t trust anyone.

Won-shik finally settled back against the couch, his movements much slower as if afraid to upset Sang-hyuk. The atmosphere was tense, the others by the coffee machine having run off, and Sang-hyuk felt the greatest urge to run home and bury himself in Hak-yeon’s arms until the whole world felt right again. Except there was no Hak-yeon at home. He chewed on his thumbnail instead, his teeth occasionally catching on skin, and the small rivets of pain helped calm him somewhat.

Won-shik eventually cleared his throat when the silence became too much, carefully glancing at Sang-hyuk until the latter finally pulled his thumb from his teeth and looked at him. Time ticked by slowly. “Hyuk…I’m sorry.” Sang-hyuk said nothing as he turned his gaze back to the wall, chewing his nail again, and Won-shik sighed softly. “I know you’re ignoring me and hating everyone, and rightfully so. It’s just, it hurts me to see it. You were always so painfully innocent, and I guess a part of me wanted you to stay that way.”

“For what?” Sang-hyuk cut in briskly, stubbornly keeping his gaze forced ahead while his teeth dug in deeper. “Did it amuse you to see me pissing myself every day, as you always so lovingly put it?”

“No. All of us, Joon-myeon, Jong-dae, me, hell, even Sung-jae—we all knew what was going on before we were brought here; we’d all been exposed to it in some way or another. But you…you were so innocent. You didn’t know anything and it…it was…nice.” Sang-hyuk slowly pulled his thumb away to stare at Won-shik, taking in the other’s forlorn expression.

“None of us really knew what to do with you. We were so used to fear and hatred and violence, and you were just the complete opposite of that. You looked at everything with this, this awe, and asked all these questions about things we’d already forgotten about. We didn’t think about the cyborgs’ thoughts or feelings because we’d convinced ourselves they didn’t have any, and there was you, standing there and feeling sorry for them and asking why they didn’t have clothes. Or why they looked sad. Most of us…we didn’t know how to handle that.”

“No .”

“I mean it, Hyuk. I…it took me a long time to figure you out, and even longer to figure out how to help you. We all tried our best in our own way, mostly…mostly because we didn’t want you to change.” The elevator let out a loud ding as the numbers started to head for their floor, and Won-shik clapped a gentle hand on Sang-hyuk’s knee before standing up. “I understand if you’re angry, but just know that I want what’s best for you.”

Sang-hyuk didn’t have a chance to respond before he was scrambling to his feet, fixing his shirt just in time as the doors slid open to reveal the sponsors. His hands slipped away from his pants, Won-shik’s obnoxiously pleasant greeting falling on deaf ears as Sang-hyuk’s eyes instinctively ran over their faces. They were still the same, emotionless and stiff; Hak-yeon’s parents catching his eye first, along with some others he had seen throughout the years, only to notice a new face, someone hiding in the back, and Sang-hyuk looked a little closer only to—he froze, his hand instinctively clasping around Won-shik’s wrist.

Won-shik stopped mid-sentence, the sponsors frowning at the interruption, though to Sang-hyuk’s surprise Won-shik ignored them to instead give Sang-hyuk his full attention. He looked down to his hand and then to whatever Sang-hyuk was staring at, and his eyes widened. But Won-shik was much better at recovering than Sang-hyuk, and he hid his surprise behind a well-placed cough, turning to lead the sponsors away with a forced smile and energetic hand wave. But Sang-hyuk stayed frozen, eyes unable to look away from the sight of Jae-hwan following the group, dressed in a fitted suit and hair styled so differently from the lazy way he always appeared at the bar. It took a loud cough from Won-shik to rip Sang-hyuk from his stupor, and even then he followed at a safe distance away.

He completely ignored the few times Jae-hwan tried to get his attention.

Joon-myeon met up with them, his smile already up and ready by the time the sponsors saw him. “Hello,” he greeted brightly, his tone so fake and pitched Sang-hyuk wanted to run and hide, “I’m sorry we’ve had to put off the meeting until now, I know you’re all very interested in our newest model. I am happy to announce that all of our subjects are doing extremely well, and are ready for you.” His eyes scanned the group only to land on Jae-hwan, his teeth flashing. “And I see that Lee Jae-hwan has come as well! Are you here with your father?”

Sang-hyuk bit his lip as he watched Jae-hwan bow respectfully, the man standing by him beaming with pride.

Was that what a father was supposed to look like?

“Yes,” Jae-hwan said, his voice so much quieter now that he wasn’t screaming over the pounding base of the club, “I’m new, so please take care of me.”

“Of course,” Joon-myeon reassured as Jae-hwan stood back up, his father patting his back, and Sang-hyuk had to take a deep, steadying breath. This…he couldn’t understand. This wasn’t right. Won-shik moved to the back once Joon-myeon had fully taken over, stepping to Sang-hyuk’s side and grabbing his hand. Sang-hyuk turned his head, frowning when Won-shik locked their fingers together, and found Won-shik staring at him in a mirror image of his own confusion and heartbreak.

Neither of them had known.

They both followed silently as they all went up to the third floor, the wide expanse of unused offices greeting them, lights flickering to life as they headed to the back room. Joon-myeon was still talking, the sponsors all listening intently, but Sang-hyuk could honestly hear none of it, his eyes firmly locked on the back of Jae-hwan’s head. The other hadn’t looked back at either him or Won-shik once, his focus entirely on Joon-myeon, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t understand why his chest tightened.

“You can take a seat here,” Joon-myeon’s voice cutting through his thoughts as he opened the door to the demonstration room. “Our men are readying the cyborgs for you, so take your time and get comfortable. Doctor Kim Won-shik and Han Sang-hyuk will be joining us today, so in the meantime you can ask them any questions you may have while we are preparing.” The sponsors only mumbled in response as they took their seats, an extra chair now placed to the side, and Won-shik and Sang-hyuk moved to stand in the back.

But Jae-hwan had other ideas.

“Won-shik! Sang-hyuk!” Both stiffened when Jae-hwan playfully hissed their names, waving his hand excitedly, though neither made a move to return the gesture. Sang-hyuk could see Jae-hwan’s smile falter, sending his confused father an awkward smile before silently walking towards them. A couple of the other sponsors watched them out of the corner of their eyes, taking in the sight of the new young man attempting to approach those perceived to be beneath them, and it seemed Jae-hwan had caught on somewhat to the tense atmosphere, keeping his head low as he hurriedly crossed the room. Sang-hyuk caught sight of the familiar grin when Jae-hwan smiled up at them through his bangs, doing his best to keep his hands at his sides as he shifted on his feet excitedly.

“Hi!” he whispered, his sparkling eyes dimming when neither of them smiled back, both standing politely still, and he tugged self-consciously at his tie. “Bet you guys were pretty surprised to see me, huh? I didn’t think I’d see you so soon, I was hoping to make a big entrance or something.”

Sang-hyuk broke first. “You…” He dipped his head when Hak-yeon’s father turned his head to stare at him, keeping his eyes locked on their shoes. He couldn’t dare look Jae-hwan in the eye. Not here. Not when he was a sponsor. Above them. A sponsor. “You knew?”

He could hear Jae-hwan hum, shifting again, and Sang-hyuk was acutely aware of Won-shik’s increasingly heavy breathing. “I…uh, yeah. I guess you could say that. I always kinda knew what you guys were doing here, but I never really cared until my dad wanted me to join him. He always talked about you, Hyukkie.” Sang-hyuk felt sickened at the sudden use of the nickname, swallowing thickly to try and hide the shiver that ran down his spine. Jae-hwan’s voice was light, as if talking about the weather, the same way all the sponsors would speak while determining their fate.

“Then…” Won-shik discreetly nudged Sang-hyuk’s side, trying to get him to quiet, “the bar…?”

“Oh that…” Jae-hwan chuckled softly, glancing back at his father playfully, “my dad actually doesn’t know about that, so let’s keep it a secret.” A secret. A joke. A lie. Everything was a lie. Sang-hyuk wanted to vomit. “I originally took the job to try and meet some of you guys, kinda like meeting the workers to see what it’s like. See from your perspective and everything. I was super excited when I met you, Hyuk, since my dad always talked about you, though I never expected you to be so cranky.”

Jae-hwan was joking, just like always, but now it made Sang-hyuk’s skin crawl. Had Jae-hwan known the whole time? When Sung-jae had first gone to that club, clueless and hurting, had Jae-hwan approached him, knowing exactly who he was? Had he purposefully given Sung-jae more than he could handle just so he could see Sang-hyuk? Had Sung-jae…could Sung-jae have been saved if Sang-hyuk had just stopped him, kept him from running to that bar where Jae-hwan was waiting?

“I’m always scared. I’m scared to see the volunteers walk in my room. I’m afraid if I see them too much, they’ll follow me forever. I kill them, you know? I’m the one that gives the test, and I’m the one that takes their life away.”

Won-shik seemed to catch onto Sang-hyuk’s spiraling, disregarding their place and everyone’s eyes as he carefully put a hand on Sang-hyuk’s elbow. Sang-hyuk’s breath hitched, grateful for the reassurance, and he managed to exhale without choking.

“So that was why…” Sang-hyuk let a sad smile cross his lips as he let out a heartless chuckle, “that’s why you always tended me. I thought…” I thought you cared about me.

Jae-hwan seemed to catch onto something, letting out a quick gasp as he waved his hands in surrender. “Oh, no! Nothing like that! I just wanted to meet you because of how great you sounded. I didn’t want to do anything bad or anything.”

“Doctor Kim cried and begged until he died, pleading for me not to do it. I didn’t want to, but…I have my mom at home. I have to take care of her.”

Sang-hyuk just shook his head, his head pounding as he tried to focus on Won-shik’s firm grip, his whole world feeling as if it was pulsating furiously against his skull. Nothing bad—Jae-hwan would never understand how terrifying it was for them, to live their lives knowing they were replaceable. Where they and their families could be erased for a simple mistake. Jae-hwan would never know, would be kept happily in the dark while the hidden deeds were swept away until only the pretty product was laid out in front of him.

Jae-hwan reached out and put a hand on Sang-hyuk’s arm, fingers dangerously close to his own, and Sang-hyuk nearly recoiled from the intimacy. “Hey, I really didn’t mean anything bad. I wanted to get to know you, so I could get a better idea of what you do and where the project was without making you uncomfortable-”

“You mean where you could get me with my guard down?”

He finally looked up to see Jae-hwan’s mouth drop open, eyes wide in shock, and he scoffed at himself for feeling guilty.

“I…I’m scared every day. I’m scared that one day I’ll make a stupid mistake and they’ll kill me off, just like that. Kill me and replace me like it was nothing. They don’t care about me, about any of us. We’re just tools, pawns that are worthless once they’ve fulfilled their use.”

“Hyuk…”

“You’re a sponsor’s son. You wouldn’t be able to understand our perspective.”

“Hyuk, I-”

“Jae-hwan,” Won-shik cut in, voice low and full of warning, “I think it’s time you sit down. The demonstration should be starting soon.” There was no room in his voice for argument, Jae-hwan’s face crumpling upon realizing neither of them were listening, and he slowly pulled his hand away.

“Is there something wrong?” They all looked up to see Jae-hwan’s father approaching them, the drawn lines on the older man’s face darkening as his gaze fell upon his son’s saddened expression. He immediately placed a comforting hand on Jae-hwan’s back as he turned to Won-shik and Sang-hyuk, his frown pressed as he looked the two of them over in one discerning sweep. “Did they say anything to you?”

“N-no,” Jae-hwan said quickly, laughing it off with a big smile. He was always so quick to smile; Sang-hyuk wondered how many of them were real. “I just wanted to say hi, but you’re right, they’re kinda scary.”

The man sighed as he began to guide Jae-hwan back to their seats. “I told you not to try, Jae-hwan. These people are cold and only here to do their job. They have no interest in mingling or trying to get to know you.” Jae-hwan glanced at them over his shoulder, frowning at his father’s words, though he made no move to defend them. There was a small uncertainty in his brow, his lower lip caught in his teeth, but that was it, in the end nodding to his father’s advice and allowing himself to be seated.

It was only when all their eyes were turned away that Sang-hyuk let out the breath he’d been holding, nearly collapsing into Won-shik’s side. Won-shik grunted as he hurriedly held him up, moving closer to keep him steady. Neither of them said a word as they leaned against each other for support, the shock and realization that life was never ing simple slapping them back to stark reality.

Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure how many more times he could be reminded before he finally broke.

“Okay,” Joon-myeon’s voice suddenly cut in, everyone turning their heads to see him close the door with a brilliantly false smile, a stack of folders in his hand. He wasted no time handing them out, making sure he had their attention. “Before we start, I want to give a short overview of the demonstration and the updates we’ve implemented since your last visit. It might be a little confusing for our newest face,” he sent Jae-hwan a dazzling smile, “but if there any questions, don’t hesitate to stop me.” He turned his head and the smile disappeared immediately, giving both Won-shik and Sang-hyuk a look of pure exasperation as he handed them each a folder.

“We now have four living models,” Joon-myeon continued, signaling them to open to the first page. Sang-hyuk followed along, his eyes sweeping over the brief summaries for each of the cyborgs. There were no pictures, his eyes pausing over Hak-yeon’s model number. “I know some of you were concerned about being informed so late, but Y21 had many problems in the beginning and we were hesitant to make any announcements before it was stable. But rest assured, all of our models are in good condition now.”

“I see you’ve already started replacements,” one woman mumbled offhandedly, glancing over the paper with a look of indifference. “You’ve mentioned before that going too fast can be problematic; are there no risks starting so soon?” Her gaze was sharp as her eyes flicked up to Joon-myeon, and that was the first time Sang-hyuk had ever seen the other man stumble over his words.

“Yes, well, we’ve conducted many tests to make sure of both Y21’s limits and adaptability to the, to the replacements. Once we were able to work out the kinks, we found Y21 has an incredibly high adaptability rate, and has already adjusted well to the new hand.” The woman hummed indifferently, and Sang-hyuk could see a small crack in Joon-myeon’s smile. “All of our subjects are heavily monitored, and every change is documented immediately. We never go ahead until we are sure they are capable of handling it.”

Sang-hyuk’s grip on his folder tightened, hands shaking. Lies—Hak-yeon hadn’t been ready in the slightest.

Won-shik carefully slapped his side without ever looking away from Joon-myeon—a warning. Sang-hyuk reluctantly schooled his expression, looking down and hiding before anyone could see him.

“Actually,” they all looked up to see Jae-hwan’s father clear his throat, Jae-hwan’s eyes wide and trusting as he stared at him in admiration, “I noticed there’s a small note here saying that you’re letting T52 and Y21 meet each other? When did that happen?” A flutter of papers as everyone tried to find the note, Sang-hyuk’s heart pounding against his chest. Images of Hak-yeon sitting in T52’s lap, T52 cradling him and running his hands through Hak-yeon’s hair, the two lost in their own world; would the sponsors be able to understand that?

There’s a reason why we always kept X39 and T52 apart.

Would they take that away?

“Ah, yes,” Joon-myeon coughed, pulling the attention back to himself, still smiling, “that has been a very recent change. Our newest addition to the team, Han Sang-hyuk, as some of you may remember,” Sang-hyuk blinked when Joon-myeon suddenly waved his hand towards him, the whole room turning to stare at him, “was the one to suggest the idea. There have been some interesting results, but we’ll wait until the demonstration is over before going into more detail.” Sang-hyuk felt as if the sponsors were stripping him down with their gaze, some eyes raking longer than others, and it took everything in him to stand still. He noticed Jae-hwan staring as well, a hint of a grin on his lips, and he hurriedly looked away.

“So, let’s begin.”

Before anyone had a chance to react, the lights dimmed until only a soft glow illuminated their faces, at the same time a large overhead light flickering on to bring attention to a single chair placed opposite of them. Sang-hyuk’s breath stopped, his grip on his folder laxing as the door behind Joon-myeon creaked open, the room falling deathly silent as the sound of muffled shuffling trickled out. And then, with little introduction or preparation, T52 was brought in, the man by his side nearly dragging him as his feet caught against the ridges in the floor.

Sang-hyuk fought the urge to intervene when he watched the way T52 was dropped into the chair, not a second thought given when they all saw the way his head lolled back. He was clothed, thank god, a loose white outfit that did its very best to hide the few dark patches that still blotted his skin. The overhead light combined with the dimmed glow of the room only highlighted the confusion that masked his eyes, his expression empty as the drugs they filled him with left him barely conscious.

Joon-myeon handed his folder to the man before making his way to T52’s side, a hand reaching over to run his fingers through the latter’s hair. T52 instinctively leaned into the touch, his lashes fluttering and lips parting. “T52 had some late reactions to the skin set we developed at the last visit, though with the newest update it has been reacting well. It is very sensitive, and can recognize a touch as simple as a brush.” To demonstrate this, Joon-myeon lightly brushed his fingers across T52’s cheek, and Sang-hyuk felt his stomach twist at the deepened moan that escaped T52’s lips.

A couple of the women smirked at the noise; Jae-hwan shifted uncomfortably.

Hak-yeon’s parents didn’t move.

Joon-myeon waited a couple seconds before a slight frown crossed his face, looking over the room briefly. “You are welcome to come and take a closer look.” When no one made a move, some even looking bored, Joon-myeon added quickly, “T52 has also had fewer resets, and it’s been noted that-”

“Yes, but for how long?” one man asked, his sharp voice cutting. “I really don’t see the point of keeping this model any longer; there are already two new models. With all the problems that seem to come from this one, is there a reason you’re keeping it?” Sang-hyuk stiffened when he saw a hint of T52’s darkened skin peek out from his collar, and breathed a soft sigh of relief when Joon-myeon quickly pushed his head down.

“I can understand your issue with the model—it’s outdated and full of problems. But there are some benefits. With the addition of newer models in such a short time, there has been little time to study them and understand what made them successful, as well as figuring out the limits the human body is capable of. Each subject has a different threshold to what they can endure, and as such T52 has an extremely low ability to adapt and thrive.” Joon-myeon’s hand grabbed a handful of T52’s hair, jerking his head up so he was staring at the sponsors directly, cupping his other hand under his chin as if putting him on display.

“But we can use it to study, to learn what precautions to take should the same reactions occur in the others. Until Y09 and Y21 are more stable, we find it best to keep T52 for safety measure.”

The man didn’t look completely convinced, though he leaned back in surrender. Joon-myeon briefly let his annoyance show on his face as he pursed his lips, waving his hand at the man behind him to take T52 away. Sang-hyuk stole a brief glance at Won-shik to see the other zoning out, seemingly unaffected at the rough way they yanked T52 out of his seat and out the door. He then glanced over at Jae-hwan and his father, the former leaning down as his father whispered into his ear, and Sang-hyuk had to take a deep breath to keep himself from doing anything irrational.

He wasn’t sure he would be able to last through these demonstrations; he really hoped he wouldn’t have to come to each one.

Hong-bin was brought in next, and the response was a complete opposite to T52. Joon-myeon wasn’t even able to finish the overview of Hong-bin’s progress before the sponsors were out of their seats, their hands running over his arms and face, grinning approvingly at the small moans that escaped his small lips. One was testing the softness of his hair while another lifted his shirt to check for dark spots, one man grabbing his arm and turning it this way and that. Even Jae-hwan had joined in, his hands placed tentatively on Hong-bin’s cheeks as he listened to his father’s instructions, his thumbs crudely pulling at the skin.

Sang-hyuk seemed to be the only one who noticed the way Hong-bin’s lips were pulled down as they pushed and prodded at him, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly. Whatever they filled him with beforehand did a good enough job to keep him submissive and willing, though he was all too aware of how Hong-bin glared at the hands, attempting to tilt his head away only to fall into the hands of another waiting. He thought of Hong-bin’s fingers exploring Sang-hyuk’s body, curious and trusting. Here that trust was exploited, ruined and dirtied as they took it all.

Joon-myeon seemed pleased with the response, grinning from ear to ear. “X39 has been doing exceptionally well in the past couple months. It has shown to react positively to touch, as well as initiating touch on its own. It’s still in the learning stage of recognizing textures and temperature, but the results are very positive. Its facial recognition has also improved dramatically, and its ability to mimic and reciprocate emotional shifts is the most advanced so far. You can try for yourselves, if you like.”

One woman immediately stepped forward to lift Hong-bin’s chin with the tip of her finger, her expression hidden as her back was turned to Sang-hyuk. But Sang-hyuk could see Hong-bin, and he watched as the other’s unfocused eyes narrowed at her, taking a second before a smile spread across his lips, his gaze turning almost predatory. There were noises of shock and approval coming from the others and Hong-bin’s eyes widened in surprise, the woman pulling back with the same expression.

She trailed her finger down Hong-bin’s cheek, catching on his lip as she tsked chidingly. “Such a petite little thing. It’s a pity it’s so unreliable.”

Sang-hyuk couldn’t handle watching anymore, glaring down at his shoes while feeling utterly powerless. Was this what really happened when the sponsors came? For years, he had watched as interns took the cyborgs away, only to wait until they were brought back disorientated, oblivious as he dutifully helped them recover. Had everything been just to let them be exploited, to let these people that had money oozing from their very pores touch and pull at them, as if fighting for a new toy? The way they stared, the way they judged; it wasn’t fair. T52, Hong-bin…they were more than just ‘models’, more than just toys. They were both so strong, so human; so much more than anyone standing in this room today.

They didn’t deserve to have themselves treated this way just for money. Money that wouldn’t even be theirs.

“Hey, you okay?”

Sang-hyuk snapped his head up to see Won-shik looking at him, his hand hovering over Sang-hyuk’s elbow. He hurriedly looked at the sponsors to see them still testing Hong-bin, Joon-myeon encouraging them. He let out a shaky breath.

“…no. I…I really don’t like this.”

Won-shik sighed, making sure no one was watching them. “I’ve never actually been in here either; it’s a whole other world. There’s a reason I never liked them.”

“Do they…do they not even feel bad?”

“No. They wouldn’t have stayed this long if they did. And I guess,” Won-shik paused, his eyes trailing over Jae-hwan, “it runs in the family.”

Sang-hyuk bit his bottom lip. “I don’t want to believe it. I-I really don’t.” While he had never considered Jae-hwan a friend, or really even an acquaintance, he had come to associate him with safety, maybe even freedom. At the bar, with Jae-hwan by his side, he was in a different world, a different time—when there, there was no lab; no cyborgs, no tests, no death. When there, he lived for himself, drinking until his mind could barely register his name and his worries were buried deep in his heart. When there, he was safe.

But Jae-hwan was just like the rest of them, and now knew him at his lowest. At his most vulnerable.

There was no safety.

There was no freedom.

When Sang-hyuk returned his attention to the demonstration, Hong-bin was being led out of the room, the sponsors having returned to their seats. It was silent save for the soft sounds of paper shifting, the sponsors readying themselves for the next one while Joon-myeon was speaking with someone at the door, his words hushed behind his hand. He and Won-shik shared a look when Y09 was never brought out, time seeming to stretch on as the wait grew longer—they both stiffened when Joon-myeon’s head whipped around to glare at them, Won-shik cursing under his breath when he saw the look of apprehension on the former’s face.

“Won-shik-?” Sang-hyuk was barely able to ask before the other was hurrying over to the door, pushing past Joon-myeon and disappearing. Sang-hyuk was quick behind him, one hand out to grab Won-shik’s arm, when Joon-myeon pressed a firm hand to his chest, stopping him.

“Stay here, Sang-hyuk,” he hissed, his voice filled with urgency. When Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to protest, he added lowly, “Keep them busy until I bring Y21.”

Sang-hyuk let out a high-pitched squeak when he watched the door slam shut behind Joon-myeon, suddenly incredibly aware of all the eyes staring at his back. He swallowed heavily as he tried his best to keep calm, knowing they were waiting and expecting something from him. But what could he say? He started to run through every conversation he ever had in his mind, trying to find something, anything, that would sound intelligent, even thinking over all the big words Joon-myeon said earlier to maybe interest them. He glanced at the chair Hong-bin had been in only minutes earlier, wishing the other was here just for something to say. Hong-bin always knew what to say, and he always spoke in that super smart, vague way, he was sure someone would like that—

An irritated cough came from behind him, and Sang-hyuk squeezed his hands into fists as he slowly turned around, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. They were all staring at him, looks ranging from irritation to mild interest clear on their faces.

“I-I-” he tried, his throat constricting as their eyes seemed to grow sharper and sharper, sweat beading over his forehead—

“Ah, sorry about the delay!” Joon-myeon’s voice broke through, Sang-hyuk nearly collapsing in relief as the other man burst through the door and ran to his side. “There were some unexpected difficulties that came up with Y09, so we will not be able to give you a demonstration today. I apologize for the inconvenience.” Disgruntled murmurs went throughout the room as Sang-hyuk sent Joon-myeon a hurriedly disguised look of confusion, one the latter thoroughly ignored as he clapped his hands together. “So instead, we’re going to bring out what you’ve all be waiting for! We are preparing Y21 as we speak, and we’ll be able to happily present it to you.”

But the sponsors were not deterred. “What do you mean, ‘unexpected difficulties’?”

“Are you trying to hide a bigger problem?”

Joon-myeon laughed jovially, the sound so fake. “No, no no! Of course not! It was just a small reaction to one of our daily tests; it’s very common among the subjects in the beginning. There’s nothing to worry about.” The casualness in his tone, the confident way he held himself; it seemed even the sharpest couldn’t cut through Joon-myeon’s carefully built façade, the room slowly believing him as they begrudgingly fell along to his words. Sang-hyuk dug his teeth into his bottom lip from revealing anything, knowing anything from Y09 collapsing to ing dying could be actually what was happening.

But he could never say that.

“You’ll all be very impressed with our Y21—in just a short month, it has already surpassed both T52 and Y09 in terms of responsiveness to its surroundings, and is close to matching X39 with how quickly it is able to recognize facial expressions. It is still learning how to mirror people, and its reactiveness to other’s motions and words is still slow, but the progress has been astounding. You will not be disappointed. And, ah!” The door creaked open again, everyone turning in anticipation, Joon-myeon’s enthusiasm erasing all doubt, “Here it is!”

Sang-hyuk could taste bitter copper when Hak-yeon stumbled through the door, his head hanging limply as he was led to the front of the room. He looked so small, so helpless, his hair a wispy mess that fell into his eyes, his clothes nearly engulfing his body. Sang-hyuk immediately lurched forward to help, fighting down his first instinct to rip Hak-yeon from the nameless man’s arms. Hak-yeon’s body was completely pliant as he fell against Sang-hyuk, his lashes fluttering as if trying to figure out where he was. Sang-hyuk stood absolutely still as Hak-yeon struggled to lift his head, his chin dragging across Sang-hyuk’s chest, and for a second a flash of recognition crossed his face. His gaze narrowed, his nose scrunching, but then it was gone, his head falling back and his knees near buckling.

Sang-hyuk hurried to sit Hak-yeon down, taking extra care that he was alright before reluctantly stepping back—only to look directly into the stunned faces of Hak-yeon’s parents. His mother’s eyes were wide, slack as her hand instinctively reached out to grab her husband’s arm. His father in turn could only stare, looking between Sang-hyuk and the dazed body that was his son with an expression that was near stricken.

But neither made a move to say anything, nor did they attempt to catch Hak-yeon’s attention.

Once the initial shock wore off, their faces fell to indifference once again, the emotional distance they had created only widening further.

Hak-yeon had ceased to be their son the moment he ran off with Sang-hyuk, and that was only made clearer now. Sang-hyuk took a step closer to Hak-yeon, placing a hand on his shoulder. It didn’t matter what they did; he would protect Hak-yeon.

Joon-myeon cleared his throat, the sly smirk on his face showing he had also noted Hak-yeon’s parents’ reactions. “Y21 is still completing the initial tests, so we will have to ask you not to touch it today. In the future, when it becomes more stable, you will be able to test it for yourselves. It is still a little slower than the others, though this will improve over time. Doctor Han Sang-hyuk has been in charge of Y21 since the beginning, and has taken great strides to make sure Y21 is functional. Doctor Han, would you care to demonstrate?”

Sang-hyuk’s head whipped around to stare at Joon-myeon in horror, his whole mind racing as it dawned on him what the other had just asked. Nobody had said anything about him doing anything, just him standing in the back and overseeing everything He wasn’t supposed to talk, or interact with anyone. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Joon-myeon offered no help at his obvious distress, only sending him an annoyed eyebrow raise, so Sang-hyuk swallowed heavily before turning back to Hak-yeon’s limp body. If he refused, who would they bring in to force Hak-yeon to follow their stupid dance? Seok-jin? Chan-sik? No, he had to do this. He didn’t want anyone else touching him. Just in the last half hour alone he had seen how these people viewed the cyborgs, and he would rather risk everything than let them lay one finger on him. He had to do it.

With shaky hands and an equally shaky smile, he knelt down in front of Hak-yeon, leaning forward so he could look up into the other’s eyes. Hak-yeon’s gaze was hazy, his eyes dancing around with no real purpose, and Sang-hyuk gently took his hand. His skin was so soft, so real. So fake. Almost immediately Hak-yeon’s arm jolted, his eyes snapping down to stare right into Sang-hyuk’s. Sang-hyuk rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of his hand.

“Y21, can you hear me?” Hak-yeon blinked slowly, the confusion slowly fading as recognition peaked through, his lips trembling with words that his tongue was too tired to form. And then, so weak it was barely noticeable, his fingers squeezed back.

At that moment, the room melted away as Sang-hyuk focused only on the small pressure against his hand, his heart bursting with love as his smile widened, tilting his head to make sure he had Hak-yeon’s attention. He could see the smallest flicker of the drugs tugging at Hak-yeon’s consciousness, his breath labored as his fingers shook, and Sang-hyuk squeezed his hand again.

“Y21, if you can hear me, can you nod your head?” Very slowly, Hak-yeon nodded, and Sang-hyuk felt the pulsing urge to protect rush through him, flushing his cheeks and leaving him utterly breathless. He took a moment to continue, keeping his voice sweet and kind. Hak-yeon always responded so well to warmth. “Very good, you’re doing wonderful. Do you feel this?” He twisted his hand around so his palm was pressed against Hak-yeon’s, his fingers locking around the edges of his wrist, and Hak-yeon nodded again. “What do you feel?”

Hak-yeon knitted his brow before his lips trembled again, “S-skin.”

“And what does skin feel like? Is it hard? Squishy?”

“S-soft.”

“That’s right!” he praised tenderly, patting his palm in reward. “And whose skin are you touching?”

“Sang-hyuk…” His words were so small, so quiet, but audible all the same.

“Yes! You’re doing so well, I am so proud of you.” He ran a hand through Hak-yeon’s hair without realizing it, having done it so many times it was almost second nature. But with it came the unexpected, Hak-yeon’s lips curling up into a dreamy smile, eyes closing as he reveled in a feeling he couldn’t actually feel. Sang-hyuk paused and blinked furiously to hide the tears that threatened to fall. Hak-yeon…Hak-yeon hadn’t smiled that freely in years, far longer than the few weeks he had been in the lab.

It was almost as if the little boy that peeked into his window and opened his world had returned, even if for only a moment.

He watched Hak-yeon’s smile for a few more seconds before turning to Joon-myeon, and stiffened when he saw the other’s wide-eyed expression. He quickly looked to the sponsors to see them all watching, enraptured, Hak-yeon’s parents on the verge of jumping out of their chairs. He noticed Jae-hwan leaning forward to watch, fascinated, and he hastily shot up to his feet, yanking his hand away and watching as Hak-yeon frowned briefly before growing silent once again.

Nobody said anything, nobody moved, and Sang-hyuk immediately began to regret ever waking up that morning. “I-I-”

“Do you treat all the models that way?” It was the first man, the one that had first noticed Hak-yeon and T52’s relationship, and the way his brow twitched up had Sang-hyuk sweating bullets. Sang-hyuk looked to Joon-myeon for help, panicking, and awkwardly nodded when he realized the latter was still too shocked to help. The man cleared his throat, never looking away from Hak-yeon as he tugged at his tie. “I have never seen a model react like that before. How long has this one been here?”

“A-about a month.”

“And has it always been this responsive?” Jae-hwan’s father, though this time Jae-hwan never looked away from Sang-hyuk.

“Yes. I,” he hesitated, looking to Joon-myeon to see if he should stay quiet, and let out a slow breath when Joon-myeon only dipped his head to continue, “I try to use a g-gentler approach when working with the cyborgs. I help them u-understand what’s happening and let them learn that they are equal to me.”

“Equal to you?” one woman scoffed.

He squirmed. “W-when they feel comfortable, they start opening up and asking questions. They notice things and want to learn.”

“What kind of questions do they ask?”

He thought of T52 huddled on his bed, fighting through resets just to try and find Hak-yeon’s hand, desperate for warmth. He thought of Hong-bin’s cold hands searching his body, trying to discover the world that was slowly opening up to him. He thought of Hak-yeon asking about the emotions Sang-hyuk felt, comparing them to pictures and wondering why he couldn’t feel them himself. There was so much these cyborgs, these people, were feeling, were wondering; these people here would never understand. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he knew they wouldn’t want to hear, and he tamped down his swirling emotions as he managed to stutter out,

“They want to understand what they are. They want to be human.”

That brought the whole room to a staggering halt, mouths hanging open, and Joon-myeon immediately jumped in. He pulled harshly at Sang-hyuk’s elbow, smiling again. “I’m sorry about that, Doctor Han is new to these procedures, there’s no need-”

“Actually, I’m very interested in what he has to say.” Everyone’s heads turned to Hak-yeon’s father, the first time Sang-hyuk had ever heard him speak. Even his wife look surprised, though he didn’t seem to pay her any mind. “While his ideas and methods are a bit…questionable, there’s no doubt that there are positive results from them. And the display just now with Y21 was remarkable, regardless of your opinion on the matter. I mean, isn’t that what we want in the end? For them to be human?”

Joon-myeon stood speechless for a long moment, taking even longer to regather his bearings. “Well, yes, but there are still procedures that must be followed-”

“And how effective have those procedures been? This project has been going on for over a decade, and there hasn’t been any progress close to what this young man has brought in. We should follow what he has to say to at least test if it’s effective or not.” He then glances over at the first man, humming thoughtfully. “But you brought up an interesting question that was never answered. T52 and Y21; you said there was a reason for them meeting?”

Joon-myeon looked like he swallowed a lemon, his lips locked tight as he nudged Sang-hyuk forward. “I, uh, mentioned to T52 once about Y21, and he was interested and wanted to know more. I knew it wasn’t allowed, but I let them meet once just to see what would happen. T-T52 had never shown interest in anyone before.” The following silence seemed reassuring, everyone listening, and he continued. “Y21 was still new, and T52 seemed to pick up on it. He talked to him about what was happening and gave him advice. H-he was a little wary about saying much in front of me, but he took very good care of Y21.”

“And this behavior never occurred before?”

“No.”

“Would we be able to see an example?”

“What?” both Joon-myeon and Sang-hyuk exclaimed, the two of them quickly restraining themselves when Hak-yeon’s father’s expression only hardened. There was something different about the way the man spoke, his words holding an authority that refused to be questioned, and nobody in the room dared to try.

“I want to see what T52 does with Y21. You said their behavior was the reason you let them meet, I want to see what you mean.”

“O-of course,” Joon-myeon said slowly, unable to hold up his smile as he slowly stepped back, his entire body b with displeasure as he went back to the door, whispering lowly to whoever was on the other side. Not a single word was said, a single paper rustled, as they waited, only the sound of Hak-yeon’s labored breathing able to resonate against the thick walls. Sang-hyuk felt he was near his limit, his body winding itself tighter and tighter as the urge to scream until his lungs broke free grew stronger and stronger. He kept his eyes trained on the ground the whole time, never looking away until the door creaked open, T52 stumbling through once again.

T52 was significantly less muddled this time, his body language much more guarded as he did his best to stand on his own two feet. His eyes swept over the room before landing on Sang-hyuk, expression softening only for a second until he saw Hak-yeon behind him.

“You lie,” was all he whispered before he shoved the man holding him away, his steps staggered as he fought his way over to Hak-yeon’s side. Without even a second to spare, T52 fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around Hak-yeon’s shoulders and tucking his head under his chin, slurred shushing escaping his lips. Hak-yeon’s eyes fluttered open with the innocence of a child, taking a second to realize what was happening before he tilted his head up to see T52, a bright, lazy smile spreading across his face as he leaned in closer.

“I am here,” T52 said quietly, murmuring into Hak-yeon’s ear. “I am here.”

“Yes,” Hak-yeon murmured back, peaceful, and his eyes fell closed again.

Sang-hyuk bit his lip as he watched. He no longer was the one Hak-yeon looked to for affection, the one who waited endlessly just to catch a glimpse of his face. He was now replaced, replaced by someone who could give him everything he needed or wanted—everything Sang-hyuk couldn’t. And despite the devastation that filled him, Sang-hyuk knew he had to accept it.

“I’m impressed. And this was all based on a hunch?”

“Yes!” Joon-myeon agreed hurriedly, quick to please once he realized the response was positive. “Doctor Han has been a great asset in these past few weeks, and all our subjects have been doing very well since he started. I also…” Joon-myeon’s voice grew faint against the buzzing in Sang-hyuk’s ears, his attention only focused on the tender way T52 held Hak-yeon, the way his lips brushed Hak-yeon’s ear as he whispered silently, the way Hak-yeon let himself be fully embraced. Hak-yeon…

T52 was good for him. Wonderful.

Everything he hadn’t been.

He felt himself zoning in and out for the remainder of the time, no more questions directed at him as Joon-myeon worked to end the demonstration, planning on taking the sponsors to tour the lab. Sang-hyuk wouldn’t be needed then, able to escape, and he had no other plans than to run to his bunker and cry until the heavy weight on his body relieved even a little. He stayed back as T52 and Hak-yeon were led out, barely aware as the sponsors stood up and began to file out, and only moved when he was sure he was the only one left.

Until he lifted his head to see Hak-yeon’s parents standing right in front of him.

His hands tightened into fists when he saw the way Hak-yeon’s father looked him over, his lips twisted into a grimace, his mother glaring at him with all the ferocity of a yipping dog. He had never been so close to Hak-yeon’s parents before, but just that moment alone was enough to make him never want to see them again. These were the people who had left Hak-yeon alone with maids who never really took care of him, who paid no mind when Hak-yeon repeatedly snuck out to see Sang-hyuk. They were also the same people who never tried to find him, leaving him to forever rot in the small apartment Sang-hyuk had bound him to.

“Can I help you?” he asked lowly, no part of him wanting to talk to either of them. Hak-yeon’s father’s mouth twisted even further, his brow furrowing.

“Y21…how long has it actually been here?” When Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, the man’s hand shot out and grabbed Sang-hyuk’s shoulder, his grip so tight he could feel his nails digging into his skin. “Tell me the truth. Where did you find it? What did you do to it?”

“‘It’?” Sang-hyuk asked, a sudden rush of anger pushing the words out faster than he could think. “Why would you think I would know anything about Y21?”

Hak-yeon’s father spluttered, taking a second before his grip tightened ever harder. Sang-hyuk winced. “You’re the one who turned it, weren’t you? Tell me, what have you really done to it? I know it’s more than whatever bull that idiot back there spewed out.”

“I don’t know if I can answer that,” he said, matching word for word, punch for punch. “You seem to be awfully concerned with that one model, I would say it was almost as if you were worried. Why, do you notice something? Does it make you wonder why you never cared that much when he was just Hak-yeon?”

The reaction was instantaneous. Hak-yeon’s mother let out a small gasp, a flash of emotion betraying her features as for just a second heavy pain crossed her features. The brief slip-up, the immediate hiding behind a blank mask; Sang-hyuk saw so much of his own mother in her, and he wondered what she would’ve been like had she not been introduced to this environment. What his own mother might have been like. Hak-yeon’s father’s hand fell away, letting out a heaving breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, his lips white from how hard he pressed them together. It was nothing how he imagined their reactions to be, the numerous scenarios of where they merely scoffed at Hak-yeon fading away as ones of horrified concern filled his head instead.

Somehow, for whatever reason, they were sad.

Somewhere, deep in their hearts, they had some level of love for him.

He wished Hak-yeon had known this.

“He…he’s alright, isn’t he?” The man’s voice had lost all of its thunder, his eyes showing all the pain his face couldn’t dare to show. In that second, he looked nothing like the intimidating man of earlier, a sudden shell of himself. “They’re not hurting him, are they?”

“…no.”

“Is there…is there anything we can do to help? To—to make it easier for him. For Hak-yeon.” Sang-hyuk was confused at the question, his mouth opening to voice his confusion, when Hak-yeon’s father suddenly regained his previous anger, grabbing Sang-hyuk’s collar and shaking him furiously. Sang-hyuk blinked in pure shock at the sudden aggression, stiffening and doing his best not to collapse in a ball of nerves and anxiety. “You s are always going on about all these fancy things you’re creating for the cyborgs, why aren’t you actually using any of them? The memory implants? The nerve enhancements? Why can’t you make his transition any easier? Why can’t you help him?”

Implants? Enhancements? Sang-hyuk had never heard of any of that before, his mind swimming as he could only focus on how close those hands were to his face, how hot his breath was on his skin. Were there other projects going on besides the cyborg one? How much else was hidden in this godforsaken place? What else…what else were they planning on doing to the cyborgs?

He was never given a chance to respond when the door opened again, Sang-hyuk unable to lift his head when he heard Joon-myeon’s dangerously low voice, “I do believe that is my employee that you are currently manhandling, Cha Min-jae. If you have any questions or concerns regarding anything discussed today, I would expect you to go through me.

“Now, I think it would be best for you to let him go.”

Sang-hyuk was gasping by the time Hak-yeon’s father finally let go, the other man’s eyes b with a terrifying mixture of rage and pain, his gaze unwavering as he stared straight into Sang-hyuk’s soul.

“Take care of him. Don’t let them hurt him.”

Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, standing on wobbling legs until Joon-myeon successfully led Hak-yeon’s parents out of the room, and only then collapsed to the floor with his head buried in his hands and his lungs contracting so painfully he could only choke on air. Stupid, so stupid; what could he really do? With nothing but empty bravado under his belt, what could he possibly do to help anyone?

I'm extremely sorry about the long delay, I know this chapter is over 2 months late. I got a new job, and unfortunately it doesn't give me a lot of time to write. Not only that, but this chapter was really hard to write—the sponsor scene was something I had always planned to do, but never actually planned on how to do it, so it took a long time. (not to mention I am in no way qualified in actual demonstrations or anything, so if it was bad I'm super sorry!)

Also, I'm not trying to force anyone or anything, but I was wondering if anyone could give any feedback about how the chapters are written? It's been a worry of mine for a while, and I've been wondering if the way I've been writing Sang-hyuk's POV has been hard to follow. I've never written such a narrow-viewed 3rd POV before, and Sang-hyuk tends to overthink and miss a lot what goes around him, which I'm worried it makes it hard for readers to follow the story. So I was wondering if anyone could let me know if that's true or not? If it is, I'll change it to make it easier for you guys!

Thank you!

And in return for these super long waits, the chapters will be extra long!